


Very Very Frightening

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autism, Autistic!John, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: “Is everyone alright?” Brian called from the kitchen floor, sitting up straight. He supposed he’d be the one to get to the bottom of it. Although his bottom at the moment was quite sore from the crash landing he had seconds ago.The rest of Brian’s body was sore too once John dove into him. There was no more house for John to run in, so he decided to stop by landing on Brian, curling up on him and shivering.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Can I get some fluff autistic!John, with poly!Queen. Maybe something where John gets scared or someone’s being mean to his so all the boys (Brain, Freddie and Roger) comfort him or something

There was a thunderous bang, a sharp ear piercing whine then a boom as glass shattered.

John was in the living room where it happened, doing some homework. The sudden noise seemingly fried his brain and burst his ears, jumping up in panic and beginning to run. He had no idea where, but he needed to get out of there. That was the only thing on his frazzled mind. 

Roger was in his room reading, nearly throwing his book across the room at the sudden noise.

Freddie was in the bathroom, shaving his face, nicking his skin when he heard that awful noise, cursing and slamming he razor into the sink in a mixture of anger and fear.

Brian was in the kitchen, brewing some tea when it happened, falling flat onto his ass when that crash echoed through his ears.

Roger stuck his head out of his room, eyebrows knitted. “What the bloody hell was that?” he yelled. John ran past him.

Freddie stepped out of the bathroom, a dramatic hand on his chest. “Have we been bombed?” he asked, eyes scanning the hallway for any signs of a bombing. There weren’t any. John ran past him too.

“Is everyone alright?” Brian called from the kitchen floor, sitting up straight. He supposed he’d be the one to get to the bottom of it. Although his bottom at the moment was quite sore from the crash landing he had seconds ago.

The rest of Brian’s body was sore too once John dove into him. There was no more house for John to run in, so he decided to stop by landing on Brian, curling up on him and shivering.

It took Brian a second to recover but he held onto John, the both of them all sprawled out on the kitchen floor and began to soothe him.

“Oh, no, Deaky, darling. Don’t be scared. It was just a..” Brian had no idea what it was but they were all fine, so whatever it was, it couldn’t have been bad.

He grimaced trying to get them into a more agreeable position, John trying to make himself as small as possible the whole time, hands over his ears, eyes scrunched shut. 

“We’ve been robbed!” Freddie cried from the living room. There was a faint ‘Ow!’ followed by Roger saying, “Freddie, no we fucking haven’t. The window’s..shattered on it’s own..?”

Brian could hear the two murmuring, a little too busy with someone to go check out the window himself. He kissed the top of John’s head, holding onto him tight, whispering some reassurances to him.

Freddie and Roger eventually stumbled into the kitchen, frowning at the sight.

“John, baby boy!” Freddie screeched, which wasn’t very helpful, throwing himself onto the floor to cuddle up on him. Roger joined, hugging the trembling lump that was their boyfriend.

“Whatever the hell that was, it scared him shitless,” Brian said quietly, nuzzling his nose into John’s hair. 

“L-Lightning,” John stuttered into Brian’s chest, the mere mention of it making him quiver harder.

“But it isn’t even raining!” Freddie said, looking out the intact window of the kitchen. It was very cloudy, sure, but no rain.

“You don’t need rain for lightening, love,” Roger said, a little exasperated. Freddie was so lucky he was cute. 

John let out a whimper, wanting to abandon the subject. The dots were easy to connect from there. Lightening hit the window, the window exploded (all over John) and he wanted to forget about it. 

Roger rubbed John’s back, able to feel his flying heart beat through his spine. “Let’s take him to bed. Get him settled down,” he said, his lips curving down. They all nodded in silent agreement, getting ready to pick him up when Freddie stopped them.

“He’s got glass in his feet,” he said, now noticing the trickles of red on John’s soles. 

 _And in his hair_ , Brian thought. His kisses were received by sharp things his adrenaline filled brain couldn’t process.

They felt even worse for John, having to go through that all alone. He was never too keen on thunderstorms and now they feared he’d never tolerate them again.

Roger, the only be-muscled of the group, carried John to the bathroom, John hiding his face in his neck the whole time, while Brian fetched the first aid kit. Once settled on the toilet seat, Brian and Roger sat on the floor, each working on plucking glass from on of John’s feet. Freddie stood next to John, hugging him, rubbing his shoulders and picking glass out of his hair and clothes. 

The bathroom was the one place with windows, so John couldn’t see the far off flashes of light or hear the rumble of thunder. And although getting glass shards pulled out of your foot wasn’t fun, he found himself able to relax.  _A little_.

“You’re quite brave, Deacy. Think if I were you, I would’ve pissed myself,” Roger said with a little laugh, using a cotton ball to rub alcohol into the tiny wounds. John hissed, toes curling. 

“Shh, shh. You’re doing fantastic, baby. Once we’ve got you cleaned up, we’ll all got to bed. That sound nice? Spend the rest of the day under the sheets,” Freddie said, pressing kisses onto John’s forehead and cheeks.

“With Beary,” Brian added as he wrapped gauze around John’s foot. 

That did sound nice.

“What about the window?” John asked, wondering how they’d function with a hole in their house.

“That’s the landlords problem,” Roger replied, finishing up with John’s foot, a grin on his face. 

It was just Brian, John and Beary in bed at first. Roger was sweeping up the glass while Freddie called the landlord. 

John was all pressed into Brian, a squished Beary in between them, his shaking finally stopping, the color returning to his face. Brian pecked John’s lips, whispering, “How are you feeling?”

“Ears still hurt,” 

“Mm, I bet. I was all the way in the kitchen and my ears are ringing,”

John frowned, intertwining his bandaged feet with Brian’s.

Roger joined them eventually, arms wrapping around John’s waist, his face pressing into John’s shoulder. “Look at our brave man. Survived an explosion without so much as a scratch,” he said, a bit tired from all the panic.

“My feet,” John said.

“Oh…Well, you’re still so brave! You didn’t try to run or nothing,”

“I did,”

“..I’m going to take a nap now,”

The three giggled, all of them starting to get lulled into a nap by the shared warmth. Any such option to actually sleep was thrown out the window when Freddie joined, draping himself over them, retelling the phonecall he just had.

“And then he said he didn’t believe me! Said that we were covering for one of us breaking the window! And I told him nu-uh! Lightening hit it! My sweet John wouldn’t lie! Plus we all heard it! And then he said-”

This past hour was a hellish one. One second John’s doing homework and the next he’s sprinting down the hallways, heart beating out of his chest. His ears were throbbing, the bottoms of his feet stinging and all he wanted was somewhere safe to go. 

John couldn’t think of a single place safer than in the arms of his boyfriends. 

Despite Freddie’s rambling and the shaking of the bed from the other two’s laughing, John found himself drifting off, a little smile on his face


	2. Thunder Bolts and Lightening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's another lightening storm and the boys have a plan in place for their Deacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked:How does autistic!John handle storms after the events of your lovely story “Very very frightening”?

The sky was a miserable grey since dawn. Nothing new for dreary London. Everyone went about their business for the day, expecting a light drizzle in the afternoon before returning to chilly breezes and looming clouds. It was chore day after all. No time to sit by the window and watch the sky swirl and shiver.

Brian’s tasked with doing everyone’s laundry. He’s the only one patient enough to sort whites from colors, denim from silk. He sat on the kitchen floor by the rumbling machines, sighing as he sees another food stain on Roger’s shirt. Why can’t he eat like a civilized human?

Roger’s in the living room, hoovering with the radio on, singing along badly to Bing Crosby, who crooned loud enough to be heard over the vacuum. He waggled his finger and swung his hips to the beat, pushing the heavy appliance over the carpets.

Freddie was busy in the bathroom, scrubbing every surface until it shone. He didn’t want to talk about what 4 men could do to a sink or toilet. He just wanted to clean up the evidence. 

And John was in their room, door closed to block out the nerve wracking sound of the hoover and washing machine, tidying up the floor and bed. He had a window open to let in what little natural light there was outside, chittering to himself as he changed the bed sheets. 

He didn’t like chore day. There were too many loud noises from the clean up and too many people walking around doing different things and too many things to do. His boyfriends were gracious enough to give him the easiest of tasks and lovingly helped him when he forgot a step. They even let him stay alone in the room to avoid the chaos.

Still, he didn’t like it. Sweeping up a floor was so tedious.

Or putting on a new bed sheet.

John groaned when the bed sheet snapped out of the corner he had just tucked under the mattress, making him have to start all over again. You’d think they would have invented a better bed making system by now. It was the 70′s for crying out loud! The modern era!

He was about to go back to the offending corner when the hair on his neck rose. Far off, there was a grumble of thunder.

 _Thunder can come alone. It does quite often_ , he thought to himself, not daring to think of the other weather phenomenon that frequently accompanied the bellowing thunder. The word brought back unpleasant memories and feelings.

John shook his head of the anxiety, now more focused than ever on making the bed better than his mother could.

He tucked in each corner until not a wrinkle was present on the white fabric, fluffing the pillows before he put them in their pillow cases. He was gathering up the quilt from the laundry basket when thunder suddenly barked from the heavens. He could’ve worked through it if his eyes didn’t catch a faint flash from beyond the window, almost like a nerve lighting up the morose sky. 

Panic set into the bassist’s bones. He’d had nightmares about lightening for months. He couldn’t do this. No, no, no. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

John began to pound the heel of his hands into the side of his head, pacing back and forth. It felt like his brain had short wired. He could feel adrenaline flooding his body, but he couldn’t run or shout, only walk from one side of the room to the other, focusing only on the short bursts of pain to his temple.

Another roar of thunder coupled with a crackle of lightening seemed to get John moving. Right of out his room, running.

The world around him was achingly clear and sharp, every little detail burning into his eyes. Yet, he couldn’t remember anything about his flat. Where anyone or anything was.

The lights illuminating the house were too bright and the shaking of the washing machine made his ears ache. He could feel his heart fluttering uncomfortably in his chest. He suddenly felt very small and very alone.

He looked every which way, hyperventilating. He wanted to keep running, he just didn’t know where. 

His gaze fell on the front door and in his frazzled state, he went for it. John just wanted to get away from the lightening. He wanted to go very very far away from it and hide. He didn’t want the big flashes of light or broken glass. He wanted it to be dark and quiet and he wanted to be safe and he  _needed_ to get away right now. Right now.

His feet carried him closer and closer to the wooden door until, mysteriously, he couldn’t move anymore.

Panicked, he wriggled and writhed, tears building up in his eyes, a lump growing in his throat. He had to go. He had to! 

“Deacy, it’s me. I’ve got you,” Roger cooed, having caught John by the waist on his mad dash to escape their flat.

John let out a tiny cry as Roger came into focus. “Lightening,” his trembling lips said, his body following suit.

Roger nodded, pulling John into a bear hug. “I know. But it won’t hurt you this time. Not with the 3 of us here. You want to go find them?”

On edge, John kept looking around the flat, whimpering when lightening reared it’s ugly head in one of the windows. “Lightening,” he said again, his hands flying to his hair, ready to pull out more than a few strands. 

Roger turned John around, securing his arms over John’s so they stayed at his side. Hair pulling was one of the few stims they didn’t take lightly. Nursing a bleeding scalp wasn’t fun, especially when your patient refused to stay still.

John hissed, but Roger ignored it, picking him up in the position, waddling the both of them close to their room, calling out to Freddie who was laboring away in the bathroom, “Fred! Get Bri! We’re having a code thunder bolts and lightening!!”

Ushered into the room, Roger sat John down on the bed, working quickly to shut the blinds and cover them with the drapes. Freddie and Brian rushed in, already knowing what to do.

John was the type of like something until it went wrong once. And then he never liked it or even tolerated it again. He got a shock of static walking over a mat once and never wanted one in the house ever again after that.

His boys knew that and they knew after the lightening fiasco, he’d never do well with storms again. So they devised a plan.

Freddie had a pair of big sunglasses he offered to put on John. “To dull the flashes,” he said as John allowed him to put them on.

Brian had headphones, which John put on himself. “To block out any sounds,” he said.

And finally, Roger took a step back from their closet, John’s favorite place to hide or relax, which was now pimped out with pillows and blankets. 

John sniffled, wiping away some tears as he looked at all his boyfriends. He hesitated. 

Roger took his hand. Freddie held onto his waist. Brian placed a hand on his lower back. Together they guided the quivering man to his Lightening Fort, all of them smiling as he crawled inside.

It took a moment before John sagged against the cushions, laying down. All the anxiety faded away as his world went mute and his boyfriends hovered over him protectively.

“You like it, huh?” Brian said, grinning, noticing how quickly John’s body language changed. 

John could just barely hear Brian, but he nodded. He’d have to thank them later for thinking of him and his comfort. It never crossed his mind to have a plan for future storms. He thought he’d just have to suffer every time. 

“Look at our brave boy. All snuggled up in his nest. Not even crying anymore!” Freddie said, kneeling down to kiss John’s now dry cheeks. John smiled coyly, scooting further back into the closet. 

The flat shone brightly for a brief second as lightening sizzled, but John didn’t even flinch, not noticing it. Roger beamed, calling out, “Success!!”

John didn’t know why the 3 of them were celebrating, but it didn’t matter to him. He was comfy and safe. He laid his head down on a pillow, wrapping himself up in a blanket, chirping softly to himself.

“Mind if I join?” Freddie asked, sending Brian and Roger a wink, as only 2 people could fit in there. He’d won the Deacy jackpot.

John nodded, cuddling up to Freddie, making relaxed noises into his neck. Freddie pulled him close, humming happily.

Meanwhile, Brian and Roger stood outside the closet pouting. 

“We need a bigger closet,” Roger said with a frown.

“One day, babe. But for now, I call next with Deacy,” Brian said cheekily.

“Wait! No! I was the one who caught him! I’m next!”

“No, no, I already called dibs. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Brian!”

“ _Roger!_ ”

Freddie snickered while they fought, John purring and playing with Freddie’s hair, all of them oblivious to the torrential downpour, peppered with thunder and lightening.


End file.
